


(small) talk

by ideal_girl (trainwreckdress)



Category: Actor RPF, NCIS RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trainwreckdress/pseuds/ideal_girl
Summary: Jensen's momma raised him right.





	(small) talk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moosesal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosesal/gifts).



> Note from diana, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Pretty Lights](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Pretty_lights), which closed for financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Pretty Lights collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/prettylights/profile).
> 
> Moosesal asked for "post-Dark Angel days, these two run into each other, as gen or as porny as you want to get." From my understanding, Jensen and Michael totally were not what you'd call "friends," so I ran with that, which resulted in a sadly not porny affair, but some Mean Girls-style cattiness. Special guest appearance by Torri Higginson, thanks to her Vancouver and NCIS connections. Inspiration and enabling care of deeablo. Errors left over are mine, all mine.

Jensen's simultaneously considering the nutritional content of the canapés and wondering if the extra time on the treadmill is worth it (he decides it's a better bet to go to In-N-Out on his way home instead) and considering ways to tell his well-meaning, but ultimately useless, publicist to go stuff it (why the hell did he let her talk him into this dumb party?) when suddenly he's shoulder-to-shoulder with Michael Fucking Weatherly and really, really, what did he do (helped that old lady across the street yesterday, fed the stray neighborhood cat last this morning, hid Jared's shoes every day for a week last month) to deserve running into Michael Fucking Weatherly? 

"Jensen Ackles, surprise surprise." Expensive-sounding ice jingles in an expensive-looking glass as Michael Fucking Weatherly sips some must-be-expensive-tasting liquid. For a brief moment Jensen wishes he took the bartender up on his offer of a beer -- instead he just tightens his grip on his sparkling water (with a twist of lime). "Fancy seeing you here." 

Jensen has a hard time thinking of Michael as anything but Michael fucking Weatherly in his head (and when he's drunk and telling stories about the multiple times he wanted to lay the dude out), but Jensen's a professional, manages to force out a smooth response. 

"Weatherly." 

Jensen counts that as a win, especially when it keeps his newly reacquainted former costar quiet for a glorious handful of seconds. He's just about to escape under the pretense of going to the restroom / eating a tray of those damn canapés / getting a real drink when Michael starts talking again. Jensen's anything but impolite -- his momma raised him right -- so he keeps his feet planted on the nice Italian marble and raises his glass to his lips. 

"Seriously, didn't know they invited genre folks tonight." Out of the corner of his eye, Jensen sees Weatherly lift his glass in greeting to someone across the room. Jensen follows the movement, sees Mark Harmon smile in return before he turns back to a conversation with an important-looking balding executive type. Michael plucks a canapé off a proffered tray and eats it ravenously and makes noises about it being "delicious" to no one in particular. 

"Pardon?" Jensen's got almost a full season of dealing with Michael's passive-aggressive bullshit under his belt. He can take some catty dinner party conversation, no problem. 

Michael sighs, and Jensen's sure if he could stand to look him in the face, he'd have that damned smirk plastered all over it -- the one that Jensen remembers being Michael's default expression whenever someone would bang on the door of the trailer he shared with Jessica in the middle of a particular vicious-sounding screaming match. 

"You know, genre: ghosts, witches, dragons." Michael shrugs heavily enough Jensen can feel the pull on his own shoulder, through the fabric of his sports coat. "Boys living in their parents' basements as your core audience. Being a network that has a reality show about pathetic girls looking to be the next Cindy Crawford as its flagship. The sort of thing you do when you're young and hungry. The sort of thing you pass on as you get older, better. You still hungry, Jensen?" 

Jensen smoothly ignores both the dig on his work and the dig of his age – hell, Weatherly's got a decade on him, at least, and at least Jensen dates girls in his own generation. "Haven't done the dragon thing, yet, I'll have to bring that up." Jensen tilts his own glass in response to a discreet wave from across the room – Jensen met Torri last year at a bar in Vancouver. She had just found out her character was getting written off Atlantis and Jensen had just found out that his character was getting written into a corner on Supernatural. They drank a lot that night, and were very politely asked to never return to said bar. Jensen recalls Torri did a guest stint on NCIS recently, must be here to keep it fresh. Gotta keep working, Jensen knows that's the truth. "And you? How's life in the Procedural Drama lane? Must be nice, all that structure, no nasty surprises." 

"The paycheck makes it worth it." A beat as the chatter in the room swells and dims. Michael clears his throat. "And the fact that I know I won't come face to face with a comic book hero or a crossroads demon is quite nice." 

Jensen smiles -- a real genuine one at that -- takes the last sip of water and lets the ice cubes crash against each other and nudge up against his lips. "Aw, Michael, you've kept up with my work? I'm touched." He rattles his empty glass and tilts his body toward the bar. "Interesting to see you, as always." 

A lucky sweep of the crowd deposits Jensen at the bar, where he tops up and keeps moving. A slim hand slides under his elbow, and Torri's lofty whisper tickles his ear. "Saw you with M.F.W." She over enunciates the "F" and Jensen stifles a snort of laughter. Again, he was really drunk when he met her. "You'll have to give me some tips if I land this gig." 

"Here's a tip, stay away from him." He leads her away from the crowd, a quieter bubble in the corner of the room. "But my mother told me--" 

"--if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all." Torri smiles around the straw of her drink. The white plastic is stained red with her lipstick when she deposits her empty glass on one of the many tables dotting the room. "With that being said, let's blow this joint. The canapés are terrible." 

"Glad I passed on them." Jensen drops his glass next to hers, and leaves the party without a thought. 

FIN


End file.
